One Day
by owlwayssandforever
Summary: Some love stories don't unfold right away, some take time to get to the good part. Emma Swan has no idea when she meets Killian Jones, that that day will become a very important part of her life. Catch a glimpse into the world of Emma and Killian for a single day each year. Based loosely on the book of the same title by David Nicholls.
1. Chapter 1

**_* A/N: I encourage reviews! Giving me feedback helps me to get better, and if I get better, you get to read better stuff! So I hope you enjoy this and if you feel like it, leave a quick review! 3 *_**

_May 7, 2005_

She knows him, of course she does. Everybody knows him. Killian Jones was _the_ guy to know on campus – a partier with a different girl always hanging on his arm, the type who never went to class but still aced all his courses, with all the best connections (though no one knows how, he didn't come from money or social status) – and she had heard plenty of stories from his older brother, Liam, with whom she was close. She had worked with Liam during one of her co-ops, and they had immediately connected

So when he goes careening into her at the bar that is hosting their post-graduation party, she rolls her eyes and tries to shove him away. It's so crowded that he just bumps into another person but doesn't really move any farther away from her.

"That was rude, love, shoving me into other people," he slurs drunkenly at her, narrowing his eyes. "Have I done something to offend you?"

"You spilled my drink," she says waspishly, tilting her cup to show its empty contents and waving her other hand over her torso to indicate that said contents were now covering her shirt.

"So sorry, love, that's bad form. Allow me to buy you another?"

"Stop calling me that," she says flatly, feeling inexplicably irritated by the pet name. "And no, I don't need _you_ to buy me drinks, _Captain Hook_." She spits out his nickname like it's an insult (it's the most ridiculous moniker she's ever heard someone come up with – calling himself that because of his ability to snag any girls he wants).

"Ah, you've heard of me!" He raises an eyebrow provocatively, as though he thinks she is impressed by his reputation (and he's so drunk maybe he really does think that).

"Yes, Killian, I know who you are," Emma sighs tiredly, wishing he would just leave her alone already.

"But I don't know you, and that seems a tragedy," he croons, reaching out to tuck a stray piece of hair behind her ear as he takes a step closer.

"Well, looks like it's going to remain a tragedy," she replies with a sarcastic smile, and she turns to leave, but he grabs her wrist.

"Love, I sincerely apologize for spilling your beverage down this lovely chemise, but you are far too beautiful for me to allow you to leave so simply." He gives her his most confident, dashing look, and she squirms uncomfortably, trying not to look at his too-blue eyes. "Please do me the honour of having a drink with me?" She comes to her senses, aware of this play, he's too charming, too suave, too much of a… of a pirate, intent on doing some pillaging and plundering with her tonight.

"No, thank you," she answers, trying once more to turn away.

"Please, love," he releases her wrist after a small tug, and he scratches the hair behind his ear lightly, looking anywhere but at her now. "Just a name." And he gives her this look from under his eyelashes that absolutely wrecks her, makes her heart stop and her breath catch in her throat, and she feels herself give in.

"Emma Swan," she says, and with a small smile she turns and walks away (and she might put a little more sway in her step than usual, but she would never admit it).

When she falls asleep later that night, she dreams of eyes the colour of the sea, and she is drowning in them, but it doesn't matter, she doesn't care.


	2. Chapter 2

_May 7, 2006_

He walks into his favourite coffee shop in Boston for what is going to be the last time in a while when he spots a beautiful face crowned with a tumble of blonde curls, and he can't stop the smile the spreads across his face. Killian walks over to her, standing at her little table until she looks up from her book, not wanting to disturb her but also very much wanting to talk to her.

"Hi Emma," he says simply, and she raises an eyebrow in surprise.

"I'm shocked you remember my name," she answers. "What's up, Killian?"

"Do you have a minute? It'd be nice to catch up." She looks at him like she doesn't quite agree, but nevertheless she nods, and Emma Swan was never the kind of girl to let people hang around her if she didn't want them to, so he puts his bag over the back of the chair across the table. "Do you mind if I grab some coffee first?" She shakes her head and gestures with her hand toward the counter. He watches her the entire time he waits, completely unable to take his eyes off her as she continues reading her book. He's never seen someone so focused and intent, completely lost in the text. She doesn't even notice when he returns, sitting down and staring at her as she finishes her page and then looks up in surprise.

"Sorry," she says lightly, "it's a good book."

"Not to worry, love," he replies and she smiles earnestly. "You knew my brother."

"Yeah," she confirms. "We worked together when I was on co-op one year. He was the youngest person in the firm, so I guess we just clicked."

"That was how you knew me at the bar." It's not really a question.

"You also had a bit of a reputation. But yes, your brother did tell me about you."

"This seems unfair," he says with a wicked grin, "you know my life story, and yet all I know about you is your name and that you are exceptionally beautiful."

"It's a travesty," she answers with an equally mischievous smile, and she toys with the necklace she wears every day.

"Tell me, love, I implore you." Killian can't explain to himself why he feels the need to be different for Emma, to not be the 'dashing rapscallion' he considered himself to be in college. He wanted to explain to her that she was not just another conquest, that he actually found himself wanting to talk to her, spend time with her. He couldn't even explain that to himself (he barely knew her, and he'd never felt like this with others), let alone to her. But god, he wished he could.

"Well," she says, voice dripping with sarcasm but still somehow managing to sound light-hearted and innocent, "I was born a princess in a faraway land, but my parents had to send me away for my own well-being, and now I'm just waiting for some handsome prince to come and whisk me away to a land of magic and fairy tales."

"You're a very amusing young woman," he says in response, her reluctance to tell him about herself doing nothing to stem the flood of his curiosity.

"I try," she answers dryly, and he gets the feeling that she doesn't like him very much.

"Come now, Swan, I'm trying to strike up an honest friendship here." She narrows his eyes at him, and he feels like he is looking at a particularly skittish animal, one false move and she'll flee, so he keeps his eyes on her, letting her read him, until she decides he's trustworthy. He knows when it happens because she lets out a deep sigh and her shoulders relax ever so slightly.

"I was an orphan, never got adopted, just bounced around in foster care, until I met Mary Margaret in college. I was already 18 by then, so it was never formal, but I've pretty much become a part of their family I guess. Studied Criminal Justice at Northeastern and was pre-law, and now I work in an administrative capacity in a firm until I go to law school." She folds her hands across her chest, and he's guessing that she feels very vulnerable for sharing this information, and he smiles warmly at her.

"That's very interesting, love."

"You think so?" She seems so unsure, and he nods, and he can honestly say that he is not lying. Coming from anyone else, it might have been boring, but for some reason everything she says seems riveting. "What about you? What's your deal?"

"What has Liam already told you?" he asks in response, leaning back in his chair and sipping on his coffee.

"That your dad wasn't around as a kid and your mom died several years ago. You two moved to Boston when he turned 18 so he could go to school. You were quite a handful as a kid, which I could have guessed from what I knew of you at school. That's it."

"Well then you pretty much know everything up to the present. Liam enlisted in the navy about a year ago, and I've decided to follow suit, since I didn't have much luck finding a good job here. So I leave tomorrow." The smile fades from his face as, for the first time, he doesn't feel excited for the new adventure awaiting him.

"Tomorrow?" she asks, looking almost a little disappointed (or maybe he just imagines that because he wants to see it).

"Aye. So if you have any designs of sleeping with me, you'd best start flirting, Swan," he says with a playful wink, and she laughs, and he thinks it's a truly magnificent sound.

"Well, I'd love to give you a proper sending off," she says, checking her watch, "but I actually have to get going. I've got dinner plans I have to get ready for."

"Emma?" he asks nervously. "I would love to have someone to stay in touch with while I'm gone." She smiles at him and holds out her hand, and he places his phone in it. She quickly punches in her number and saves it, and then she stands, picking up her book and bag.

"See you around, Killian," she says with a last smile, and he thinks privately that he can't wait to call her.


	3. Chapter 3

_May 7, 2007_

It's a gloomy day, and she is secretly glad because this whole ordeal would somehow be ten times worse if the sun was shining, if the world didn't somehow seem to recognize the unfairness of all of this, if everyone else wasn't somehow inconvenienced by it all. She dons a black dress and her pearls, but doesn't bother with her hair and makeup hardly at all – the rain and crying will just mess it up, so why pretend that her eyes aren't rimmed red from crying?

How did this happen? How did they get here? One minute life was normal, she was celebrating successfully taking the LSAT, the next she was getting a phone call from Killian that he was coming home, coming back to Boston for the worst possible reason. And he knew that she had been friends with Liam, so he thought she might want to be there, and even if she didn't, could she come anyway, because he needed a friend and he had so few. Of course she was going.

The funeral was… unmemorable. It was a standard funeral for a soldier killed in action. There was no religious service, no family members speaking words of remembrance, only the knife that sliced clean through her heart when they handed Killian the flag folded into a triangle, and he tried so hard to keep a brave face. There was only the shredding of her heart as they lowered the coffin into the ground and she watched, trying unsuccessfully to imagine a world without her friend, and she saw Killian dip his head to hide the tears as his last family member and best friend left him alone. And she squeezed his hand to let him know that he was not alone, but then she let go, letting her hand just brush against his, because she didn't know how to comfort him, they had yet to have that kind of friendship. There were only the tears that fell into their laps, the tears that felt like they would never end. And at the end, when she stood to drop her flower in and leave, there was only the whispered "Please stay," and the gentle touch of his fingers against her leg to make her sink back into her seat and wait while everyone in attendance came to offer him their condolences.

"Emma…" he said, voice hoarse and eyes red as he turned to face her once the others had all gone.

"I'm here, Killian," she answered, and she wrapped her arms around him as he leaned his head on her shoulder. They stayed like that for a few minutes before he finally spoke again.

"I don't have anywhere to go."

"You'll stay with me," she replied in a whisper, without any hesitation.

"Aye?" he asks, looking up at him with wonder hidden somewhere behind all the grief, and she nods.

"Come on, it's cold out today. Let's go get warmed up." She pulls him to his feet and wraps her arm around his waist, hoping that the feeling of being close to someone is what he needs right now.

"You're a bloody angel, Emma," he says, and she smiles for the first time that day.

When they get back to her apartment she toes of her heels and gives him the grand tour. She trades her nice dress for sweats and a t-shirt while he's in the bathroom, and when he comes out (also changed into comfier clothes) she is sitting on the couch with a bottle of rum and a pint of mint chip ice cream. He grins and reaches for the rum first, but when she pulls the lid of the ice cream and offers him a spoon, he digs in with enthusiasm.

They spend the evening trading the carton and the bottle back and forth, taking long pulls and big bites while they tell stories to each other. Killian tells her about learning to ride a bike, about Liam pranking him as they got older, about Liam's first girlfriend, Mary, and his clumsy attempts to get her into bed. Emma tells him about the time Liam drove her to a little shop an hour away because she just had to get the perfect gift for Mary Margaret's birthday, and the week that he made lunches for her and brought them to work because she was so short on cash she could barely afford food, and she told him about the first time Liam fell in love, when he was a freshman in college with a girl named Kimberly, because he told her about it one day at lunch.

It's around 9pm that they finish the first bottle of rum and open a second, and they are running out of stories to tell, but Killian is laughing so hard he's crying and Emma wants to do anything to keep him smiling, to make sure those tears are happy and not sad, and she's drunk off her ass so she starts flirting shamelessly. She doesn't want anything to come of it, she just wants to keep him thinking about anything but the gaping hole Liam has left in his heart, but she shouldn't be as surprised as she is when he suddenly leans forward and presses his lips against hers, one hand circling around her back to pull her close.

Maybe it's the rum, but when he kisses her, it tastes like the sea – like salt water and a cool breeze – and maybe this is how he got all those girls in college, by tasting so god damn good, and she swears there's nothing else she would rather taste on a kiss than him.

There's a nagging little voice in her head that tells her this is a bad idea, that reminds her that tomorrow he will be gone again, but she brushes it aside and runs her fingers through his hair as she kisses him back, and it is all the encouragement he needs. He pushes her back into the couch and he lets just enough of his weight rest on top of her that they are pressed together along every inch of their bodies, and all she can think is _more_. His fingers brush against her breast and she tilts her hips up to press against him in response, a soft moan escaping her as she presses her lips even more hungrily against his.

"Swan…" he gasps, pulling away with a question on his lips.

"Bedroom. Now." She looks at him hard and circles her hips against him as she says it, and he doesn't need to be told twice. He picks her up, her legs wrapped around his waist, and carries her to her bedroom, both of them shedding a few articles of clothing on the way.

She wakes in the morning with a pounding feeling in her head and a warm body beside her, and a not-so-small part of her thinks that the second part of that equation is maybe something she could get used to.


	4. Chapter 4

_May 7, 2008_

_Killian, can you give me a call when you get this? I really need to talk to you._ He listens to the message again, debating whether or not to call her right then – he had a busy morning planned and he was _very_ hungover (drinking that much in one night didn't seem to agree with him as much as it had in college) and the headache made dealing with whatever Emma's problem was sound extremely unappealing. He knew she would be mad if he delayed, he had already ignored the call last night and she really did sound desperate, but still, Killian was an expert in running away from problems, not toward them. It had been a difficult year for him – he hadn't taken Liam's passing well at all, drinking himself into a stupor constantly until he was finally discharged from the navy (his commanding officer had taken pity on him and at least made sure it was honourable), and he had been scraping by in Boston with a job down by the docks, earning just enough for a crappy apartment, cheap food and an abundance of alcohol, and he felt that was all he needed. Emma had recently developed a nasty habit of telling him it was time to get his life together, to sober up and get a real job, to move on, and if she felt like giving him another lecture this morning, he was having none of it.

It wasn't until late that afternoon that the guilt from ignoring her ate away at him so much that he felt compelled to call.

"Hey," she said on the other end, sounding very distracted.

"Hi, Swan. You busy?" He secretly prayed for her to say yes, desperately wanting to get out of this conversation and back to his rum.

"No, I, um, just have a lot on my mind."

"We could talk later if you'd prefer."

"No!" She says quickly, and his eyebrows pull together. He can hear in her voice that she really needs to talk to him, and it occurs to him that maybe she hadn't wanted to lecture him at all, maybe she really does need something.

"Emma? What's wrong?"

"Killian…" He hears a sound on the other end and he's not sure whether it's a sigh or a sniffle as her voice drops to a whisper. "I'm pregnant…"

"You're… what?" he asks, not completely processing her words.

"Don't make me say it again!" she cries, and he can hear the sob in her voice this time.

"I'm sorry love, I…" He lets the sentence drift off, not knowing what to say. "Whose is it?" he asks curiously.

"Some guy I've been seeing for about a month."

"You didn't tell me you were seeing anyone," he says, trying to tamp down the twinge of jealousy tugging at his heart. _Don't be ridiculous_, he tells himself, _you definitely do not want to be in this guy's situation, even if it is with Emma._

"Killian!" she squeals in exasperation. "You're missing the point!"

"Sorry, love. What are you going to do?" He knows it's about the worst question he could possibly ask, probably the question she's been asking herself nonstop since she found out, but really there's nothing he can say or do until that basic point is established.

"I don't know. I didn't mean for this to happen, but… Killian, I don't think I can get rid of it?" She says it like she's asking his permission, when really it's the last thing in the world she needs.

"Then don't. Emma, listen to me, you are so strong, the strongest woman I've ever met. You can do this if you want to, I know you can. Did you tell him yet, the father?" His question is met with silence on the other end. "Emma?"

"Yes. I did. And he doesn't… he's not… he…" she struggles, unable to get the words out as she truly breaks down into tears and Killian swears under his breath.

"Hey, you don't need him, okay?" he says, trying to soothe her over the phone.

"Everything is just such a mess!" she cries, and he knows that on her end, the tears are flowing like a river.

"Shh, Emma, I know, but it's going to be alright. You're doing better than me, still, you know that?" He hears her give a weak laugh through her tears. "God, Emma, I'm gonna do better, I swear, I'm gonna do better so I can be there for you. I promise."

"Killian, you don't have to –"

"I do. Swan, as much as I believe in you, you're going to need help still, and I want to be in a place where I can do that for you. I want to be there for you. You deserve so much more than me, but you've got me even so." His eyes are burning hot with tears now, the need to be more for her so strong in his heart that it has lit a fire. He wants to be the kind of man that she can trust, he wants to help her with doctors' appointments and cravings and late night diaper changes and babysitting. He wants her to be comfortable with him around her baby, and he knows he needs to make some real changes for that first.

"Thank you, Killian."

"Of course, love. What do you need right now?"

"Just you, that's all." He can hear that her tears have stopped now, but he knows she's not yet feeling good.

"With or without ice cream?" he asks.

"What do you think?" she responds, the hint of a laugh colouring her voice.

"I'll be at your place in half an hour," he says, and he hangs up, making a left and redirecting his footsteps towards her apartment, stopping quickly at the 7-Eleven on the corner of her block to pick up a carton of mint chip before he asks her to buzz him in.


	5. Chapter 5

_May 7, 2009_

"How's the little one?" he asks when she opens the door for him, and Emma can't help but smile. He hasn't really been around as much the last few months, at least not as much as he was in the beginning, when he slept over all the time to help her when Henry would wake in the middle of the night _every night_, when he would change diapers and sing lullabies and make her dinner because she was so busy taking care of Henry sometimes she just forgot to eat.

"He's good, he misses having you around I think," she says, but what she really means is _I miss having you around_, and a look flashes across his eyes that she thinks is maybe guilt, but she's not sure.

"I've been…" he scratches the spot behind his ear that he always rubs when he's nervous. "I've wanted to, it's just…"

"It's fine, Killian," she tells him, but she feels the smile slide from her face a little. He can't come up with an excuse because the truth is he didn't want to be here, and she can't say she blames him. It's not his kid, she has to constantly remind herself, and what twenty-seven year old wants to be stuck taking care of someone else's baby all the time?

"Really, Emma, you know I love the boy," he says when he sees her smile falter. "I've just been busy lately, I swear. I got a new job, a real one."

"That's great," she replies, and she turns away from him to pick up some of Henry's burping cloths and bibs that are strewn across the room, needing something to do with her hands to keep the tears at bay, because she swears her stupid hormones are still haywire and that has everything to do with why she's felt so hurt by his absence lately.

"Emma…" he says as he turns her to face him and wraps his arms around her in a hug. "I didn't know if you still wanted me around so much. It's easier with him now, I thought… I thought you'd want more time with him, I thought… I thought you'd want me to back off." She shakes her head as she holds on tight to him and he exhales sharply. "Shit, Emma, I'm sorry."

"It's okay," she says as she pulls away, wiping her eyes and trying her best to smile convincingly.

He releases her and she turns away again, returning to the task of tidying up, even though she really doesn't need to for him, just so she can have something to do other than look into his blue eyes (eyes that maybe a little part of her wishes Henry had, instead of Neal's brown ones). He fidgets relentlessly, fingers twisting around and around as he shifts his weight from one foot to the other, looking like he wants to say something but doesn't know if he should or not.

"Killian, I want to tell you something," Emma blurts out, at the exact same time Killian, bursting with excitement, says,

"I have something to tell you," and they both laugh lightly before he waves his hand to indicate that she should go first.

"I wanted to tell you that… that I've really missed you lately and I liked it when you were here all the time," she gushes, and now that the words are coming out, she can't seem to slow down or stop them, "and I liked when you slept over, and I like how good you are with Henry, and I want to have all that again, because… because I think that maybe I love you, Killian. I think, I think maybe I'm in love with you." The smile drops from his face faster than the blink of an eye and he looks at her like this is the worst possible thing she could say, and she starts to fidget under his gaze, and this is _not_ how she imagined this going at all.

"Emma, I…" he grimaces, looking for all the world like this is the most painful thing he will ever say, "I'm engaged."

"Oh." She drops the pacifier she had just picked up, but doesn't even notice as it skitters across the floor. "Oh, okay." She folds her arms across her chest, trying to keep the pieces of herself from completely falling apart, and he looks like it's just wrecked him to tell her, and she wants to be happy for him, she really does, but all she feels is shock and hurt and she can't look at him right now because if she does she'll break, and she can't, she can't do that.

"Emma…" he reaches out to her half-heartedly, but she takes a half a step back, and he lets his hand fall lamely.

"Um, congratulations, then, that's… that's really great. Who, who is she?" she asks, her voice cracking as she tries to feign interest, even though she's not fooling anybody.

"Her name is Milah." He bites his lip, completely at a loss for what to say.

"Milah, that's great, really, that's –" she has no idea what to say, and he looks lost, which is pretty much how she feels, and she really just wishes he would leave right now, because nothing he is going to say will make this any better, and maybe if he were just gone she could stop trying to pretend she is okay when she's so obviously not. For once, Henry has impeccable timing, and she says a silent thanks to whatever god gives her this one little thing when everything else is so messed up when she hears his cries pierce the air. "I've got to go take care of Henry now, so…"

"Right, I'll, er, I'll just let myself out, I suppose." He looks like he wants to say something, or maybe hug her, but he decides better as he backs out of the apartment, a final "See you, Swan," before the door shuts behind him.

Emma goes into Henry's nursery and picks him up, rocking him a few times before sinking to the ground and holding him close while her tears fall. He snuggles closer to her and coos gently into her chest, his little hand reaching out for her, and she touches her forehead to his, and maybe her sweet little boy will be the perfect cure for a broken heart.


	6. Chapter 6

**_A/N: Sorry it's taken me a little bit longer than usual to get this chapter up. This one just really didn't want to flow, so I'm not sure how I feel about it, but I want to get on to the next chapters, so I don't want to spend more time trying to tweak it. So sorry if it's not great._**

_May 7, 2010_

Emma bounces Henry on her lap as the car pulls up to the wedding. Or, "wedding", more like, since it's not really anything real or official. They had eloped months ago, but some family and friends had felt left out, so they decided to hold a reception, and now here she was, in a cab with her fifteen month old son sitting in her lap, heading to the wedding of the man she loves and another woman. _No, you don't love him_, she reminds herself, _not anymore. You're past this._ So she takes a deep breath and opens the door.

It's a nice party, and Emma really is trying her best to get along with Milah, because she knows Killian wants it, but she still highly doubts that they'll ever exactly be best friends. She hardly knows anyone here, since they don't have a ton of mutual friends, but she knows Mary Margaret will be there, and she's just casting her eyes around the room looking for her sort-of-sister and her husband when she spots Killian smiling at her. She smiles back, and gives a little wave, taking Henry's hand and making him wave too, and she can't help but grin wider as her son's face lights up.

"Papa!" Henry chirps happily, pointing to Killian, and Emma sighs, shaking her head. It's not the first time he's done this, but it's a blow to her every time. However, it's not really the time to try to tell Henry _again_ that Killian is not Papa, so instead she just makes her way over to the happy couple to offer her congratulations.

* * *

"She brought her son?" Milah says, turning to him with a look of disdain. "To a wedding? Really?"

"Of course, what else was she supposed to do?" Killian gives her a quizzical look, not at all understanding what the issue is.

"Get a babysitter?"

"She doesn't have one, she always asks Mary Margaret and David, but since they're coming tonight as well…" She gives him a look that makes him trail off and he looks away, instead making eye contact with Emma and smiling as she and Henry wave to them.

"It's just so irresponsible," Milah scoffs in reply.

"Hey. Whatever else Emma's flaws may be," he says, turning to her, an edge in his voice that makes it clear that this is a battle he will not lose, "she is a wonderful – and _extremely responsible_ – mother to that boy." Milah just glares at him in reply as Emma walks toward them to say hello. He knows she hates it when he defends Emma that way, but this was different, going after her as a mother was too far, and he couldn't just let her say something like that. He'll make it up to her later.

* * *

Three hours later, Henry is sleeping in a back room while the babysitter one of the other guests brought for their child keeps an eye on him (Mary Margaret, Emma, and David still take it in turns to go check on him every few minutes), and Emma is out on the dance floor at Mary Margaret's behest. She's just about to go check on Henry again when she sees Killian, drunkenly stumbling toward the bar, every now and then finding one of his friends and chatting animatedly before moving on.

"Killian," she says softly, cutting him off with a gently touch on his arm, and she swears he jumps a mile high when her skin touches his. "I think you've had enough for tonight, why don't we just get you some water?"

"I'm fine, Swan!" he slurs, smiling widely – too widely – at her.

"No, you're not. This is supposed to be a special night, don't you want to remember it?" she asks him, her grip on his wrist tightening.

"Milah doesn't mind if I'm a little bit tipsy, so long as I can still celebrate later," he says, wiggling his eyebrows provocatively, and Emma releases his hand as though she'd been burned.

"Milah wasn't there after your brother died," she replies sharply.

"How dare you…" he starts, fuming, but she cuts him off.

"Killian, if anyone knows the fine line you walk with alcohol, it's me. I'm saying this because I care about you, please give it a rest." She reaches out for him again, but he pulls away.

"No, you're not saying this because you care, you're saying it because you've been trying to fix me ever since we became friends, and you hate feeling like you're not doing a good job of it. Well, Swan, this is who I am, and Milah accepts it, so I don't really care if it's good enough for you." He spits the words out and she feels as though he's slapped her, and she makes up her mind that the party is over for her.

"You're wrong," she says quietly, and she turns away with tears pricking her eyes. She walks quickly over to Mary Margaret and David to say goodbye before she goes to grab Henry and heads home.

She feels terrible about it as she lies in bed later, and when she closes her eyes, she tells herself she'll call him in the morning to sort things out (but really she'll give him a day to call her first).

* * *

"You're wrong," Emma whispers, and he knows in that moment that he screwed up. He watches her leave and then finishes his walk to the bar, ordering a drink and downing it quickly, and then asking for another. Milah saunters up to him and wraps her arms around him from behind, running her hands over his chest.

"Are you alright?" she asks, her chin propped on his shoulder.

"Aye, I'm fine. Just said goodbye to Emma, she's leaving." He turns to smile at her, but even though he can feel the grin on his face, it's not in his heart right this second.

"She loves you," Milah says simply, and Killian shakes his head.

"No, she's just the closest thing to family I've got."

"Killian…" she replies, smiling at him like she cannot believe his naïveté.

"Milah…" he answers, in what is his best (drunken) attempt at a husky voice, and he draws her in as close as possible, pressing his lips against hers hungrily.

He wakes in the morning remembering all too well his fight with Emma, and no matter how much his tries to ignore it, he feels terrible, resolving to call her that afternoon to apologize.


	7. Chapter 7

_May 7, 2011_

He's sitting on the floor with Henry, playing with his Disney figurines, while Emma looks on from the kitchen. They don't really talk much lately, at least not the way they used to, but he still enjoys spending time with the boy as frequently as he can without sending Milah into a fury. He convinces himself that Henry needs him around, but if he were honest with himself (as he rarely is), he needs the kid much more. And he loves him, quite a lot more than he admits to anyone, except on the rare occasion that he gets to put him to bed, and then he whispers it quietly to the sleeping child, just so he knows that he is loved. So he sits on the floor and makes the little dragon figurine die a spectacular death while Henry manipulates the Prince Phillip toy, and it's just as he's making a roaring noise that he hears a knock and the door, and Emma stands with a smile to answer it.

"Neal," she says, and he can hear the surprise in her voice as he wonders who it is.

"Hi Emma," a gruff male voice replies, and Killian can already feel dislike creeping up on him (and he swears it is not jealousy). "Is someone here? I thought I heard…" A face pokes around the corner, one with the same brown eyes as Henry and the same hair, and he instantly hates this man. "Who the hell are you?"

"Neal, this is Killian, my friend. Killian, this is Neal, Henry's biological father," Emma sighs, making the introduction as she gestures between the two of them.

"Biological father? As if he has another one?" Neal scoffs, but then his eyes flick between Emma and Killian. "Are you two together? An affair with a married guy, seriously Emma?" He sounds so condescending, Killian wants to punch him right there.

"That's none of your business," Emma answers coldly, and Killian can see the anger stirring in her eyes as she regards Neal.

"It is if you're letting him hang out with my son," he replies, and sensing where this conversation is going, Killian grabs Henry's coat and scoops up the boy, mumbling something about taking him for ice cream and he closes the door behind him.

"You made it pretty clear that you didn't want him," he hears Emma say angrily as he shuts the door behind him, and he sure as hell hopes Henry didn't hear the same thing.

* * *

"He says he wants to be a part of Henry's life from now on," Emma tells him at the pizza place later, after she called Mary Margaret to come and stay with Henry for an hour or two.

"Are you going to let him?" he asks, genuinely curious (and definitely hoping the answer is 'no', he hates the idea of that ass being around Henry).

"I'm not sure. On the one hand, Henry should have his father in his life, but on the other, I don't know if I should trust him. Why does he suddenly want to be a father now? What's changed in the three years since I told him?" She sighs exasperatedly and he watches as she drags her hands over her face.

"Well, I think you should follow your gut," he advises her, not wanting to overstep his bounds.

"I just, I don't feel like he deserves to be around Henry, to have that sweet little boy in his life, but…" She drifts off, shaking her head slightly.

"But Henry deserves more than the nothing he's had," Killian finishes for her.

"He's had you," she says sweetly, offering him a gentle smile, and he returns it.

"Aye, and he will continue to, but it's not the same thing."

"I know." She looks sad, and he wishes he could make this whole situation better for her. "I guess I'm going to see how Henry responds to him. Let him spend time with Henry while I'm around at first, and if he seems okay with Neal, then we'll go from there."

"Of course Henry will be alright with him, he's okay with everyone. Friendliest kid ever." He smiles at her and pats her hand gently before taking a bite of his slice of pizza.

"Killian, I…" she struggles, but she gives him a look that says everything – that tells him that she is grateful for his relationship with Henry, that she is happy that he loves her son, that she has always considered him to be enough for her boy, even when he hasn't thought so.

"I know," he says simply, and she squeezes his hand.

He loves Emma very much, he realizes, much more than he has any right to. And god, does he love Henry. And it kills him that he has to sit back and watch while Emma gives Neal this chance with her son, because he has no claim to either of them, and he hates that he wishes he did. Because at this moment, he wants nothing more than to be a father to Henry and to love Emma the way she deserves (because she deserves _so much_ _more_ than what she's gotten) and he absolutely should not want any of it.


	8. Chapter 8

_May 7, 2012_

There's a knock on the door and Emma stands, gently placing Henry's head on the couch so she doesn't wake him. He looks so peaceful lying there – they had been watching a movie (Robin Hood, his favourite, although these days he keeps begging her to let him watch superhero movies (she doesn't think he's old enough yet, or she doesn't want him to be)) and he had completely passed out, tiny little boy snores and everything. She smiles down at him and presses a kiss to his forehead, brushing the long black hair out of his eyes, before she moves to open the door. She certainly did not expect what was on the other side.

"Killian," she exclaims, surprised.

"Hello, Swan," he says, the corners of his mouth twitching up in what seemed like the ghost of his old, confident smile.

"What brings you here?" she responds, stepping back and holding the door open so he can come in.

"I –" he hesitates. "I was wondering if I could crash with you?" She gives him a pitying smile and nods.

"Of course, come on in. Henry can sleep in my room and you can have his bed."

"That's not necessary, love, the couch is fine." He jerks his head toward their makeshift living room, and she shrugs in response.

"Let me just put Henry to bed, okay?" He nods and she moves to the couch, scooping up her sleeping three year old and carrying him to his bedroom. She returns a moment later when her son is tucked in and snoozing away, and she plops down on the couch next to Killian. "So. You want to talk about it?"

"Not particularly." He stares blankly at the tv, not really seeing it, but also not wanting to look at her.

"Okay. Can you at least give me a quick version of why you're sleeping on my couch for an unspecified period of time?" She squints at him, her body oriented so that she is facing him even though he is still staring resolutely away.

"Milah is having an affair," he says with a deep sigh, and Emma sucks in a sharp breath in response.

"Shit. Does she know that you know? Did you confront her? Did she tell you about it?" She doesn't mean to ask him all these questions, but she just can't seem to stop them from pouring out.

"Swan…" His tone is warning and just very tired, as though all he wants is to sink into some deep pit and forget everything, which is probably exactly what he wants, but he's been down that road before, and she doesn't really want to see him go down that path again.

"I'm sorry, Killian, I really am. But…" He exhales heavily.

"No, she didn't tell me, but she is aware that I know of it. I… I came home early from work today." He doesn't have to say any more in explanation before her arms are around him, wrapping him in a tight hug.

"It's gonna be okay, Killian. I promise. You've got me," she says, turning her face into his neck.

"Emma," he breathes, pulling away just enough to slide his nose along her cheek.

"Hey," she says, placing her hands on his chest and forcing him a few inches back so she can look into his eyes. "You sure that's what you want to do?"

"I don't know anymore, I don't know, I don't…" he drops his forehead to her shoulder as despair overcomes him.

"Hush," she says, rubbing her hand across his back and massaging his neck. "Come on, you can sleep with me tonight. No funny business," she nudges him with her knee to try and get a smile out of him (she's rewarded with a small one), "Just so you can be close to someone tonight."

"Thank you." She nods, hugging him again before standing up and padding across the wood floor on bare feet to her bedroom door. He follows her as quietly as possible so as not to wake the boy, and he strips down to his boxers and crawls into the bed next to her.

Emma lies quietly for a few minutes before rolling onto her side and propping herself up on her elbow to look at him. He slides one arm under her pillow and rests his other hand on her hip as she stares at him, letting those blue eyes swallow her whole.

"I've missed you," she says quietly, her fingers playing with the edge of the blanket.

"Me too. You've been my best friend for how many years now?"

"A lot," she answers.

"Mmm. A lot." He hums the words like he's about to fall asleep, so she lays her head down again, but keeping one arm draped across his chest.

"Love you, Swan. You're the best." His eyes close and his breathing evens out, and it's not until she's sure that he's fast asleep that she whispers the words back to him.

"Love you too, Killian."


	9. Chapter 9

_May 7, 2013_

There's a small park across the street from the new apartment, so after all the boxes are stacked in the living room, they agree to take Henry and call Mary Margaret and David to come meet them for a picnic. It's a beautiful day out, the kind where the sun is shining bright and strong, but a cool breeze keeps you from getting to hot, and it's easy to lose track of time as you sit outside. David pushes Henry higher and higher on the swings while Mary Margaret lays the food she brought on the picnic table, her hand drifting every so often to run over her growing belly, and Emma can't help but smile.

"Whatcha thinkin?" she says playfully, sneaking up behind Killian and wrapping her hands around his waist, lips pressed quickly to his shoulder blade.

"Do you…" he pauses, swallowing as one hand runs over hers while the other scratches nervously behind his ear. "Do you ever think about doing it again?" She gives him a quizzical look and he sighs. "Having another kid."

"Not really," she says, shrugging, but she catches a glimpse of disappointment flit through his eyes and she turns him to face her. "Killian, I don't mean… I just meant that I hadn't really thought of it because until you, until _us_, there wasn't anyone in my life I would want to do that with. And I hadn't really thought about it for us because, I don't know, we're already moving a little fast."

"I know," he sighs, looking away from her to where Henry giggles with glee as he soars higher and higher on the swing.

"Killian…" she answers in a concerned tone, her hand rubbing up and down his arm to try to soothe him and bring his attention back to her. "Hey, it's only been a few months, we've got forever for that, there's no rush. Let's just take this one step at a time. And today should be a happy one, we're moving into our new apartment, a nice one, and –"

"I know, Swan. I'm very excited about it all, I was just thinking…" He smiles at her weakly and places a soft kiss on her cheek before he pulls away, walking over to David and Henry.

"Something wrong?" Mary Margaret asks tentatively, giving Emma a very sisterly look of concern.

"Not, not exactly," Emma replies, and Mary Margaret raises an eyebrow in response, making her sigh in resignation. "Killian asked me if I wanted to have another kid, and I told him I'd never thought about it."

"Oh Emma…" Mary Margaret chided, shaking her head gently.

"What? I haven't. It's just, we only started seeing each other a few months ago, and he just got divorced, and now we're moving in together. Why can't we just take things as they come? I mean, we're already a family, me, him and Henry, why do we need to change that so quickly?" She crosses her arms defensively, looking over at her sister in frustration.

"Emma, Killian loves Henry so much. But, he's also not Henry's father, and now that Neal is back and trying to be around, Killian is never really and truly going to be able to fill that role, he's always going to have to share it. Besides, it's perfectly natural for a man to want to have his own child. And I don't think he was saying it needs to be now, I think he just wanted to know if it was an option for you two, one day down the road." Mary Margaret gives her a pitying look, as though she can't believe Emma would be so callous and not understand this. Gently, she reaches out to take Emma's hands, unfolding them from across her chest so that Emma takes a deep breath and relaxes (it's a trick she's learned after a very long friendship with her). "Emma, do you want to have more children?"

"I don't know," she sighs, shaking her head. "I have Henry, I've never thought about… I've never felt the need for… I just don't know. I need time to think about it, to talk about it with him. I don't just want to decide right now."

"Then you should talk to him, Emma, I'm sure he'll understand." Mary Margaret smiles gently, pulling Emma into a quick hug before letting her go and returning to her task of laying out their feast.

The rest of the afternoon is spent eating and laughing and playing touch football on the grass before collapsing in the sun and enjoying one another's company. Emma takes out of a small brown envelope four little brass keys and fixes one to her keychain (a simple read leather one with her initials pressed into one side), one to Killian's (a thick twist of rope and a large wooden ship's wheel charm), one to Henry's (an Avengers lanyard), and handed the last to Mary Margaret for her and David to keep in case of an emergency. When the sun begins to set, the air grows cool, and the crickets start chirping, the Mary Margaret and David say their goodbyes, and Emma, Killian and Henry make their way up to their new apartment. After a small dinner, they tuck Henry into bed, and Killian reads him a story of pirates while Emma brushes the hair back from his forehead, until his eyes close and he drifts off to sleep with a smile on his face.

Fifteen minutes later, Emma pulls back the duvet on their bed, standing to the side in her pajamas as she fidgets with the blanket between her fingers, eyeing Killian as he lies on the other side of the bed reading some novel.

"Killian, I want to talk," she says hesitantly, nervous.

"Aye, love, what about?" he replies, not looking up from his book.

"About what you asked me this afternoon." He sighs gently and closes the pages, setting it aside.

"Ah. Go ahead then, Swan." He's still looking at his lap, his hands twisting together gently in anticipation of her words, and she moves to kneel on the bed, reaching out to take his hand in his.

"What I meant this afternoon was that I hadn't really thought about it because it wasn't even a consideration before you."

"Aye, you said as much earlier," he interrupts.

"I know. But then, you and me, I've just been focused on where we are right now, and making sure that where we are is good, so I haven't thought about making changes to that. But it's not because I don't want to be a family with you. You have no idea how many times I've wished Henry was your son," she says, shaking her head gently, and he squeezes her hand, and she knows he's thinking that he wishes much the same thing. "Things are good right now, so let's let them be good for a while before we rush to change it. But," she adds quickly as the disappointment starts to cloud his eyes again, "that doesn't mean I don't want that, eventually. Maybe one day soon. But… but can we start by just talking about it, talking about what we want, what our options are, before we leap headfirst into doing it?" She eyes him apprehensively, and it takes a second for him to react, but then he's moving faster than she could believe, wrapping her in his arms and pulling her close, his face buried in her neck.

"Of course, love, absolutely. I love you, and Henry more than I can say, and if we decide that our small family is all we need or want, then I will be more than content with that, I swear. I just want to talk about it. Make the decision together."

"We're a team now, you and me, we make all the big decisions together. Okay?" She smiles as he tugs her closer, pleased by his happiness.

"Aye," he answers and he presses a kiss to her lips, his hand running down her spine. She pulls away and slips under the blanket, settling herself in the crook of his arm so her head is resting on his shoulder and his fingers draw idle patterns on her arm.

"So, Mr. Jones," she says lightly, "what do you think about having more kids?"

"I think we should have ten," he quips, sounding completely serious until she catches the smile tugging at the corner of his lips and hears the rumble of a laugh in his chest.

"You're a funny man," she answers, laughing at his ridiculousness.

"I don't know, Emma," he replies, now all seriousness. "Maybe one or two? I think three kids is more than enough for the two of us to handle. But it would be nice to have a little one… Remember when Henry was about a month old, the only thing that could get him to sleep was –"

"Playing the piano, yes. I had to record you playing for the nights that you couldn't stay." She smiles warmly at the memory. "It might be kind of nice to have a baby again… Do you think Henry would be okay with it?"

"I think the boy would really like the idea of being a big brother," he answers, placing a kiss on the top of Emma's head.

"Would you want a girl or a boy?" she asks, surprising herself by how into this she is suddenly.

"I don't think I get much say in that, love, I think we're pretty much stuck with whatever we get." She smiles in response and he laughs lightly, another rumbling vibration in her ear.

"True. Killian," she sits up on her elbow to get a better look at him, "do you really want to do this? I mean, not right this second, but soon?"

"Aye, love, very much so." He looks at her earnestly, eyes full of love for her, and she can't help but feel like there is no one on the planet she would rather be with, would rather make plans for the future with, would rather be a family with.


	10. Chapter 10

_**A/N: So first of all, this chapter could be kind of emotional, so proceed with caution.**_

_**Second, I think there's only going to be one, maybe two more chapters of this particular story. I hope you're all enjoying this, and I'll be sad to reach the end, but it happens.**_

_**That's all I've got for right now - hope you enjoy!**_

_May 7, 2014_

Emma's heart beats fast as she sits on the cool plastic chair in the doctor's office, Killian's hand clenched tightly around hers. They were here just a few weeks ago, but since then there's been a few concerns and she'd rather make the extra appointment to be sure things are okay than find out later that something went horribly wrong and she could have fixed it. The technician sits on a swivel chair on her other side, and when he squirts the cool gel onto her stomach, she only flinches slightly, too anxious to really process the cold sensation. It's the same technician they had last time, and he had learned then that Emma and Killian were not ones for small talk, so he stays quiet as he swirls the sensor over her abdomen, but she doesn't miss the furrow in his brow after a few minutes, and she squeezes Killian's hand harder. He lifts it to his lips to comfort her, but she can see the anxiety written clearly across his face as well.

"I'm having some difficulty," the technician says after a moment, and Emma fidgets nervously with the edge of the gown. "I'd like to do a transvaginal scan, if you're okay with that. It's a little more invasive, but –"

"I know what it is," Emma cuts in sharply, her worry making her a little harsher than she meant, "and yes, that's fine."

She tries to sit still while he focuses once more on the ultrasound, but after a few more minutes of nothing, she leans her head back against the chair, looking straight up at the ceiling as tears prick her eyes. Her doctor is called into consult, and she looks carefully at the screen before straightening up to regard Emma with a soft expression.

"Emma, I'm so sorry, but we can't find a heartbeat at all. This sometimes happens early on, we don't really know why." Killian gently brushes away the tears that are on Emma's cheeks as she nods, trying to put on a brave face. "It's important for you to know that this is not your fault – you didn't do anything wrong to make this happen, and if you want to try to have a baby again, it's very unlikely that you'll miscarry a second time. Physically, you can start trying again after your next period, but emotionally, it would be completely normal if you needed more time than that." Emma nods again, hardly hearing the words. "I'm going to leave you two now, but if you need anything, just poke your head out, I'll be right down the hall, okay?" Killian answers her, but Emma has stopped listening by now. It's not until the door closes that she looks up at him.

"Emma…" he starts, but she shakes her head.

"Let's just go, okay? I really don't want to do this here…" her voice is quivering as she tries not to break down yet, and Killian just nods, not saying anything as he helps her get dressed again.

He holds her hand the whole way home, looking over at her every few seconds to see if she is alright (knowing that she is not), but she just stares out the window. When they walk through the door of their apartment, he pulls her into his arms tightly, and that is when she finally breaks down completely, her body crumpling as he holds her up, until he carries her to their bed and lies down next to her. She curls her body into his side and doesn't try to stop the tears that come, allowing herself to feel every awful emotion while he rubs his hand soothingly across her back.

"Emma," he says quietly, brushing the hair back from her forehead, and she looks up at him. It's clear he's been crying too, but she hadn't even realized it, which only makes her feel worse. "I'm going to go pick Henry up from school. Do you want me to tell him, or do you want to do it together?"

"No," she answers, shaking her head gently, "we'll do it together."

"Alright, love," he replies, and he presses a soft kiss to her forehead as he stands up. "I'll be back soon."

She doesn't realize it, but she must doze off, because the next thing she realizes she's startled awake by the sound of the door closing. She gets up and goes to the bathroom, washing her face quickly and changing into some sweats before she goes downstairs. Her son runs to her, wrapping his little arms around her legs in a hug, and she lifts him up to reciprocate better.

"Hi sweetheart, how was your day?"

"Okay, Mommy. We brought pizza!" He smiles proudly, and she gives him the best smile she can, but even her five year old boy can tell it's not the same. "Daddy said you're sad. Why?" She sets him back on the floor and sinks to her knees, taking his little hands in hers.

"Remember a few weeks ago, when Daddy and I said you were going to have a baby brother or sister?" Henry nods enthusiastically. "Well, something happened to the baby, and now it's not going to happen."

"Ever?" he asks, looking stricken.

"I don't know, Henry," she answers sadly. "We'll have to wait and see. But it's just going to be the three of us for now."

"It's okay, Mommy," he says suddenly, wrapping his arms around her neck, "I'll love you enough for two kids."

"Thank you, sweetheart."

Killian walks over and she reaches up to take his hand as he offers her a warm, if somewhat sad, smile. They're going to be alright, she knows it as they sit down on the couch, watching Harry Potter for the thousandth time (she's only let Henry see the first two, so they watch them _over_ and _over_) eating pizza straight from the box and drinking more soda than they would normally. Henry gets to go to bed a little later than usual, but when he does, he passes out before they even get two sentences into the bedtime story, but Emma listens as Killian reads the whole thing anyway, hoping it will give them all good dreams.


	11. Chapter 11

_**A/N: Hi all, so this is the penultimate chapter of this fic. There's going to be an epilogue, and then that will be the end. I hope you continue to enjoy the story! Thanks so much for reading (and commenting)!**_

_May 7, 2015_

He sits in the rocking chair they have next to the window, rocking back and forth in a slow rhythm, humming to himself as he watches his little princess.

_Blow the wind, blow_

_Swift and low_

_Blow the wind o'er the ocean_

_Breakers rolling to the coastline_

_Bringing ships to harbour_

_Gulls against the morning sunlight_

_Flying off to freedom_

Her tiny little fists open and close as her lips part in a yawn and her eyelids squeeze themselves shut. It's only been a couple weeks, but already his heart completely belongs to this little girl. He hadn't known it would be possible to feel so much love for such a tiny little squirming thing, but god, was he wrong. He watches as her little eyelids flutter and close and her breathing evens out as she falls asleep to the sound of his voice, and he loves that he knows how to soothe her.

Killian turns to see Emma standing her the doorway, a small smile on her face as she rests her head on the door frame.

"I forgot that you used to sing to Henry," she says quietly, and he thinks about the many late nights he had spent when Henry was an infant trying to get the boy to go back to sleep.

"Aye, me too, that was a while ago," he answers her in a whisper, careful not to wake their daughter. She walks over silently on bare feet until she is right next to him, her fingers ruffling through his hair gently and he tips his head to lean into her touch.

"You're amazing with her, you know," she murmurs, her lips brushing against his forehead. "And Henry."

"Mmm," he hums in response, "you're not so bad yourself, love." He stands, cradling their daughter gently in one arm as he pulls Emma close to them with the other. She leans her head against his shoulder, looking at the little girl sleeping in his arms, and she reaches out a hand to brush it softly over the fluff of blonde hair on her head. "Marry me, Emma," he whispers suddenly, his thumb rubbing gently at the small of her back.

"What?" she says, a little louder than she meant to, pulling away a little and eyeing the baby carefully to make sure she didn't wake up.

"Marry me," he repeats, looking at her earnestly.

"Killian, you're crazy, you haven't thought about this at all…" she says in surprise, trying to read him.

"Actually, love, I have." He sets their daughter down in her crib gently and then takes Emma's hand, leading her to their bedroom, where he fidgets in the drawer of his nightstand for a few seconds, eventually pulling out a small red box.

"Killian…" she exclaims, breathless, and she sinks onto their bed.

"Emma, I know you say that you don't care about getting married, but I also know that that's a little bit untrue. You've always wanted a normal family, of course you did, it's the one thing you've been deprived of your whole life. But I can give you that, I _want_ to give you that. It's the least I can do, you've given me so much – a son, a daughter, redemption from a life of drunkenness and debauchery, the chance to become a _good_ man, love." He drops down to his knee and takes her hands in his, locking his blue eyes on her emerald green ones. "Please Emma, will you marry me? Will you let me be your family?"

"You already are," she answers, pulling him to his feet and wrapping her arms around his neck. "But yes, I will absolutely marry you." She presses her lips to his and he scoops her up, keeping her as close as humanly possible. After a moment, he sets her back down, and she takes his hand, pulling him onto the bed, where she curls up in his side, her head on his shoulder.

"Will you," he starts nervously, scratching behind his ear in his typical tell, "will you take my name?"

"I don't know," she replies, thinking carefully. "Not because I don't want to, I just, I don't want Henry to be left out. Isabelle already has your name, and if I took it too, that would just leave him as the only Swan…"

"He could take my name too," Killian whispers, and Emma gives him a look of exasperation. "No, I'm serious. Just because he's not biologically mine, doesn't mean he's not my son in all the ways that matter, Emma."

"I know that, but he's six, he's not so young that he won't remember if I just suddenly change his name, it's not like he's a baby and would never know." Killian sighs heavily in response, dropping his head backward onto the pillow. "I'll think about it, I swear." She presses a sweet kiss into his shoulder, massaging his ribs with her fingertips. "Luckily, we have some time to think it through."

"Aye, love, that we do." He smiles weakly and she scoots up a few inches so her head is next to his, kissing the spot below his ear tenderly.

"I love you, Killian," she whispers softly, and he tips his head instinctively toward her. "Did you ever think it would be like this? You, me, two kids, getting married? When we met, could you have ever predicted this?"

"Emma, love, when I met you in that bar, I was positively entranced by you," he replies casually.

"Yeah, but I had Henry, and you found Milah, and then Neal… did you ever think this is where we would end up?" She props herself up on her elbow so she can look at him better.

"Perhaps in the early days I thought about having this with you – not the family, I'll admit, I was much too immature for that, but being with you, aye, I thought about it. After you got pregnant though, not so much, I just thought you would have no interest in having a relationship for a while and I was much too lonely after Liam… I was not ready to be alone and wait. But even with Milah, even though I loved her… you were always a point of contention between us." He stares up at the ceiling while he talks, catching her reactions from the corner of his eye.

"I know. I never wanted to be, but…"

"But you were in love with me, as you told me that afternoon many years ago." She smiles kindly in confirmation. "And I, have been in love with you far longer than I have cared to admit to anyone else, love."

"How long?" she asks with a mischievous smile.

"Since you agreed to sit with me at Liam's funeral," he replies soberly, "and you stayed by my side the entire time." She presses a kiss to his jaw again and he chuckles lightly. "You did a damn good job cheering me up that night too," he adds with a wink, earning himself a light smack on the chest. Emma opens her mouth to reply, but just then they hear the echoes of their daughter's cries from down the hall. "I'll get it, love," he says, planting a kiss on her forehead and rising from the bed.

When he gets to Isabelle's crib, he picks her up and cradles her close to his chest, swaying back and forth like the motion of a ship at sea, rocking her gently. Within minutes, his voice floats, deep and calming down the hall, to where Emma lies on the bed, and the sound soothes both mother and child to sleep.


	12. Epilogue

_**A/N: Sorry this last part took so long - between finals and graduation, I've had a lot going on and didn't really have time to write. Thank you SO MUCH to everyone who read this story, especially those who left comments. I can't tell you all how amazed I am that you've enjoyed the ride, and I'm really glad that I could give you a story that you liked. I hope I've done justice to the idea. So this is it, here you go, the final piece of the puzzle. Enjoy!**_

_May 7, 2020_

Isabelle is much more her father's daughter than her mother's, much more a pirate than a princess. She runs around constantly, always coming home from the park with skinned knees or dirt on her clothes, but never caring. She's more than a little light-fingered too, always managing to sneak extra dessert from the kitchen without Emma and Killian noticing before it's too late. She pilfers treats for her older brother too, who is much less skilled at it than she is, more adept at reading books and imagining so many different stories in a whole host of different worlds. He, in turn, weaves a magic of his own for her, with words, sending her to far off lands for adventures of all sorts. Henry isn't shy, exactly, but he is quiet, reserved – observant, really. And yet he has the same commanding nature as his mother, only a bit more refined, a born leader. Then there's the littlest one, Christopher, who toddles around on his baby legs, still a little unsteady, though he never cries when he falls anymore. He talks a little bit now, though not much, more often than not repeating things he hears his siblings say.

Emma comes home from a late night at work to find Killian, asleep on the couch with Isabelle stretched out along his side and Christopher curled up on his chest, both sleeping deeply. Henry is sprawled across the smaller sofa, a book lying on his stomach where it fell when he dozed off. If anyone had asked Emma when she graduated college where she would see herself fifteen years later, this would not have been her answer. A wonderful husband, three beautiful children, and a job that she actually enjoyed. It was a miracle, maybe, for her to have this after having so little for so long. She had never imagined having a family because if no one had wanted her as a child, who would ever want her as the screwed up adult that she was. And yet, here he was, this man who had been by her side for so many years now, and he didn't care if she was a little messed up, (in fact, he rather adored her more for all the ways she was), and she found that she didn't care if their family wasn't perfect, or normal, it was more than she had imagined for herself just as it was. No, her life as it was would most certainly not be described as something Emma had ever pictured for herself, but she wasn't complaining, it was so much better.

Killian woke on the couch somewhere around 2 am, a blanket tucked over him and the lights dimmed low. The television had been turned off and the kids put to bed, and there was a little note on the coffee table next to his head.

_You looked so peaceful, I didn't want to wake you. I'll see you in the morning. Sweet dreams. Love you, E._

He picked up the note and flipped it over in his fingers carefully, treasuring it, before he stood up and stretched out his limbs, and made his way to the bedroom. He took the note and tucked it into the drawer of his nightstand as he sat on the bed, making a mental not to add it to the collection of little trinkets he kept in a box in the closet. Once the note was safely in the drawer, he swung his legs up and slid under the duvet, curling his body around Emma's and breathing in the scent of her conditioner (his favourite). When he had met Emma, fifteen years ago, he would never have guessed this would be the outcome. Never in a million years would Killian have dared to dream that Emma Swan would love him, enough to marry him, enough to have a family with him. Never would Killian have dreamt that he would figure out what it meant to love someone, truly, and not just want them. And by god, never would he thought that he would sleep lightly at night, listening for the sound of the baby waking in the monitor, or their daughter having a nightmare, or Henry trying to sneak up in the middle of the night to read some more (they had caught him several times with a flashlight under his covers). The old Killian would not have looked forward to early morning routines of trying to wrangle three kids and get them off to school or daycare. The old Killian would have scoffed at the idea of going to soccer practices, or tae kwon do, or sailing camps. The old Killian would have been baffled by the desire to sleep next to the same woman every night for years on end. But that is all the old Killian. This new Killian enjoys, treasures, all these things and so much more, because he is truly different now. Emma changed him – not the essence of who he was, no, she just took a man who had set the bar very low for himself and made him raise it a little higher. Personally, he didn't feel that he deserved all this, it was all far too good for him, but he wasn't complaining.


End file.
